


when i see your face

by bluehasnoclues



Category: Dracula (TV 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, decidedly OOC because 1) this is an au and 2) shhh I'm having fun, everyone is 20-30, excluding Dracula who is a vampire of indeterminate age, on the surface this fic is crack and below said surface there are horrifying implications
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22156792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluehasnoclues/pseuds/bluehasnoclues
Summary: “Large coffee. Black.”“Got it. Can I get a name for you?”“Dracula.”“Um. Okay,” the brunette offers him a bemused smile as he pens the Count’s name on the cup. “I’ll get that right to you… Dracula.”aka I stopped autoplay after the first episode because I felt like this needed to exist. time to go watch the others
Relationships: Count Dracula/Jonathan Harker, Jonathan Harker & Mina Harker
Comments: 17
Kudos: 266





	1. i.

“So,” Jonathan says to the strange, white-haired man. There’s only one other person in the cafe, Agatha, his most loyal regular. She’s trained her full attention on the newcomer and Jonathan is decidedly amused at the way she _isn’t_ looking up from her laptop. Focused on her homework, he’s absolutely sure. 

The white-haired man doesn’t respond to Jonathan’s opening, so he feels free to continue, because the coffee needs time to brew anyway. “How’s your day been?” 

“Like any other,” the man drawls. His accent is strange. Jonathan can’t place it. Maybe if the stranger keeps talking, he thinks, which is something he wants only out of polite, detached, professional curiosity. Of course. 

“Ooh, those are few and far between,” Jonathan grins. “Where are you from?” 

“Not here,” the man says, which is incredibly informative. In the sense that now he knows that this man isn’t a talker. 

“Ah. Well.” Jonathan pours the coffee with a practiced hand. For a moment, he wishes that the man had ordered a latte, at least, so he could have fun with the design, but _alas._

Mina was rubbing off on him, it seemed. 

“Here you go,” Jonathan says, setting the cup on the counter between them and sliding it over to the man. The man doesn’t speak, just takes his coffee and turns to leave. 

“Enjoy your coffee,” Jonathan calls to the man’s back.

“It’s not for me,” the man replies as he’s opening the door. He doesn’t bother to look behind him. 

Wow. What a customer. 

“That was weird,” Agatha says. 

“Go back to your homework,” Jonathan replies, rolling his eyes.


	2. ii.

“Large coffee,” says a familiar accent. “Black.” Jonathan looks up from where he was rearranging the pastries and blinks. 

He wasn’t that tired yesterday, he’s sure. He definitely hadn’t missed this, but proof was standing unimpressed in front of him, because the white-haired man has somehow lost half his wrinkles and regained at least a decade of youth. 

“For Dracula, yeah?” Jonathan asks after a moment, because maybe he _was_ that tired. 

Even though he definitely, most surely wasn’t. 

Probably. He thinks. 

Well, shit. 

“Yes,” the man replies. He sounds more open than he did the day before, too. It’s not a bad thing. Jonathan wishes that Agatha was here with him, because at least _she_ would be able to tell him that he was going crazy. 

Like before, Jonathan slides the cup across the counter, all black and dark and boring. “Enjoy your coffee,” he says out of habit, and this time the man grins. It’s small and shows only a flash of teeth, but Jonathan is… intrigued. Curious? He isn’t quite sure, actually, because something about this man is like a magnet. It’s interfering with his frequency as it draws him in. 

Admittedly, Jonathan doesn’t really know how magnets work. 

“It’s not for me,” the man says, exactly the same as before, except this time he’s looking at Jonathan with a look that Jonathan can’t decipher. 

It’s not a bad look, per se.


	3. iii.

“Large coffee, black.” 

“Hello again,” Jonathan says, and his voice is polite and amiable and not at all anything else. He has a reputation to keep, after all. “Nice to see you. I’ll have it ready for you in a second.” 

It really will just take a second, because the coffee is already brewed, which is mildly frustrating, because. 

The man looks younger? 

Jonathan’s definitely not imagining this. 

It’s got to be some sort of magic cream. Or. Something. He wants to ask, he really, really does, but that would be rude and he doesn’t even know this man’s real name. 

But. 

God, why isn’t Agatha here? 

“How are you?” Jonathan asks. He’s not expecting an answer, much less a proper one, so he’s surprised when the man actually looks at him. 

“It’s going well,” says the man not named Dracula, “and yours?” 

Okay, wow, _reciprocated_ small talk? His accent isn’t nearly as pronounced as it was before, and for a single, terrifying at-least-fifteen-seconds, Jonathan is positive that this is a prank - three cousins, or something, trying to be funny. Sure, mess with the barista, what fun. It’s _got_ to be. 

But whatever, this maybe-cousin is the nicest thus far, so Jonathan doesn’t mind playing along. 

“Better now that you’re here,” Jonathan grins. 

Then his words register in his mind and he promptly wants to burst into flames and die. Unfortunately, spontaneous combustion is not included in his meager skillset, so instead Jonathan prays to any and every deity. 

“Uh, it’s not every day that someone only gets black coffee,” Jonathan manages to say. There. Conversation salvaged. 

Then the man’s lips quirk and he says, “Your attention is flattering,” and Jonathan isn’t sure how to interpret that so he decides not to at all. 

“Well, um, be sure to tell whoever gets it to enjoy their coffee,” he says, only slightly awkward as he sets the cup on the counter. 

“I’ll be sure to,” the man says. 


	4. v.

“So, like, I wasn’t going to ask, but you look younger every time you come in here?” 

Jonathan wants to curse himself because that wasn’t what was supposed to come out of his mouth. He has no sense of self preservation whatsoever, it seems, but now that he’s commented on the obvious he may as well keep going. 

“I have three theories so far.” Jonathan’s mouth continues without his permission, coincidentally with something that he didn’t plan to share ever, except maybe with Agatha. But Agatha hadn’t surfaced for the past week and apparently he’s so desperate for someone to listen that he’s talking to the man himself. 

Not-Dracula looks amused. “Theories?” 

Jonathan coughs. “Um.” 

“Do tell,” prods the man, raising his eyebrows. Which are definitely darker and more full than the day before.

Jonathan coughs again. 

“Well. Um.” 

“Go on,” the man says, because it seems he’s an asshole who finds Jonathan’s pain hilarious. 

Jonathan, who decides to busy himself making what will be his fourth latte of the day. “For one, I was thinking, like, some super-powered whale-placenta moisturizer or something.” 

The man makes a noise in the back of his throat. 

“Okay, so not that one.” Jonathan finishes his cream leaf, takes a sip, and bemoans his entire existence, including but not limited to his high caffeine tolerance. “My second theory is that you have three cousins who slowly and systematically make people doubt their perception of the world as a pastime.” 

This time, the noise that the man makes is much more considering than it is protesting. “And your third?” 

“Ah. Yeah. That one.” 

Jonathan… doesn’t continue, because this one is actually rather embarrassing. 

“Is?” prompts the man. 

Why did Jonathan decide to bring this up again? He finally manages a two-sided conversation and it’s _this_ disaster when they could be perfectly content with talking about the weather. 

“What is your third?” And wow, the man is oddly persistent about this. 

Jonathan sighs. “My third theory is that you’re actually a vampire.” 

The man _laughs._

“Thanks,” Jonathan mutters, “but you asked for it. Ridiculous, right?” 

He grins, and it’s the same quick flash of teeth as before, and the expression is entirely too appealing on his face. “My name _is_ Dracula.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Jonathan says, “keep rubbing it in.”


	5. vi.

The next time Not-Several-Cousins, Not-A-Vampire, Mostly-A-Mystery walks into the cafe, Jonathan is busy. 

His newest underling, a very nice undergrad student named Joseph, called out sick, and there’s currently a line of several customers as Jonathan is working on a quad-shot almond-milk cinnamon-vanilla-and-chocolate iced latte, light ice. 

So Jonathan forgives himself for not noticing immediately. 

“Mina, do you mind grabbing the scones from the oven?” he asks distractedly. 

“They’re already cooling on the rack,” she says, and god, he loves her. 

“You’re the best,” he says, glancing in her direction, and smiles when she nods in agreement. 

“I really am,” she says. “Now focus on your drink before you make a mess, geez, Jon.” 

And then a polished accent says the increasingly-familiar words and Jonathan has to look up again. 

“Pot’s ready for you,” he says to Not-Dracula, who’s staring at Mina too curiously for comfort. “I’ll have it ready in a second.”

“I’ll grab it,” Mina says, already moving, and Jonathan feels oddly bereft when she’s the one to hand Not-Dracula his coffee. 

And okay. 

Maybe he has a problem. 

But Jonathan can reason that his fascination is justified, because the man’s hair is even darker and thicker today. 

Jonathan’s not imagining this. 


	6. x.?

It’s when he sees Not-Dracula through the window and automatically moves to brew fresh coffee that Jonathan decides to ask. 

“So who am I making coffee for?” 

Not-Dracula watches Jonathan. “A friend,” he says casually, “for when she feels… drained.” 

“Haha, very funny.” Jonathan catches his eye-roll halfway through. 

“How so?” Probably-Not-Dracula asks, with a voice entirely too innocent to suit him in the least, so Jonathan doesn’t even bother. Probably-Not-Dracula’s eyes crinkle at the sides, laughing at him silently. Jonathan rolls his eyes very purposefully this time. 

“Your friend’s coffee, served,” he says. “Is the Count pleased?” 

Probably-Not-Dracula certainly looks pleased. Then something else flashes over his face, and it reminds Jonathan of Agatha when she feels she’s caught onto some interesting detail. “Who was that woman, a few days ago?” Probably-Not-Dracula asks. 

“Hm?” Jonathan absentmindedly begins cleaning the counter. “Oh, you mean Mina. She’s my wife. It was busy, finals week at the uni and all, so she came in to lend a hand.” 

“Mina,” the man drawls, drawing out the word like he’s tasting the syllables. “She’s pretty.” 

“She really is,” Jonathan agrees. 

“How long have you been together?” 

“Ah. Four years now?” He tucks away his washrag, grabs another, and realises, as he’s half inside of a cleaning cupboard looking for the glass cleaner, that he probably shouldn’t be leaving a stranger to their own devices inside of his cafe. But when he walks around to the other side of the counter and begins to clean the windows, he notes that Probably-Not-Dracula hasn’t moved at all. 

“You fit each other,” the man says. The man who Jonathan still doesn’t know the name of. 

Actually, now that Jonathan is thinking about it… 

“Thanks,” he says awkwardly, then, “also, I’m realising now I don’t actually know your name? I’m Jonathan, by the way.” 

“Hello,  _ Jonny,” _ the stranger purrs. It sounds natural on him and pricks up the hair on Jonathan’s arms, though he can’t quite tell why. “My name is Dracula.” 


	7. xiv.??

“Large black coffee,” Jonathan mutters, his voice petulant even to himself as he carefully sets the cup on the counter, “for a man who won’t tell me his real name.” 

How old  _ are _ you, he wants to ask himself.  _ Why _ are you being like this. 

“Appreciated as always,  _ Jonny.”  _

That’s why I’m being like this, he tells himself anyway, because he doesn’t even really know this man who has taken full possession of Jonathan’s attention. It’s mildly irritating at least and very much infuriating at most. 

He told Mina a few nights ago. She laughed. Which wasn’t very supportive at all, he thinks now, but at least she put her arm around his shoulders and patted his head consolingly.  _ He’s a very pretty face, _ she said, her expression sympathetic.  _ I can see where you’d fixate. Jon, just go for it.  _

But there’s nothing to “go for”, Jonathan knows, and he doesn’t understand what Mina had meant, but he had asked she had only patted him again because she was also an asshole. 

“What troubles you?” Not-Dracula asks, sounding almost concerned. Not quite, but almost. Jonathan wonders what that means. 

“Just tired,” Jonathan says. He looks outside and it’s gone fully dark. “Can’t you caffeinate your friend midday, sometimes?” 

“No,” Not-Dracula says, and his tone leaves no room for discussion. Jonathan, in an increasingly rare display of common sense, gives a noncommittal hum and drops the subject. 

"So, how've you been?" Jonathan asks. He sounds exactly as awkward as he feels, which is unfortunate, because he kind of wants to crawl into a hole. "How's life? Anything new? Any young women to seduce, or whatever Dracula does? I've never actually read the book." 

"It's full of historical inaccuracies, regardless," Not-Dracula waves away. "My last 'young woman' is leaving me, I think, which is undesirable but inevitable. I have my eye on another, but they're rather infatuated with a person not my own, it seems. What has you feeling so tired, Jonny?" 

Jonathan blinks and has to take a moment to parse all of that out. Not-Dracula is being dumped? He has his eye 'on another'? 

Then Jonathan sighs because nothing about this man has ever made sense. 

"I'm fine," he says anyway, deciding not to bring up the maybe-breakup-thing(?) because he's getting a vague feeling of foreboding, and he'd rather not deal with that right now. 

"Is it to do with Mina?" Not-Dracula asks. 

"No," Jonathan lies. 

"Ah. What about Mina, then?"

"I told you it was nothing," Jonathan says. 

Not-Dracula smiles his stupid small smile. "Relationship troubles?" Jonathan's face doesn't change. Or at least, he doesn't think it does, but Not-Dracula nods knowingly, compassionately, like Jonathan had just spilled his heart to the man. "Family, then. Hers? Ah, I see." 

Jonathan isn't used to feeling uncomfortable with this man. Embarrassed at points, yes, awkward, very much so, but ‘uncomfortable’ is new, and Jonathan doesn’t like it. He wants to rewind the conversation and avoid whatever  _ this _ is becoming. 

“It’s really none of your business,” Jonathan says flatly, because he’s not about to go spilling Mina’s private life with a stranger. But Jonathan continues, shoving at his discomfort like it’ll disappear under his will. “Please stop.” 

“But isn’t it, Jonny?” Probably-Not-Dracula-But-Certainly-An-Asshole drawls. 

“Isn’t it  _ what.”  _

Tall-Dark-And-Dickish steps forward. Jonathan thinks he’s grown taller, which doesn’t come as much of a surprise as it likely should. 

_ “My business,” _ murmurs Dracula, his warm breath tickling Jonathan’s neck. 


	8. ???

“Mina, can I sleep with you tonight?” Jonathan asks, burying his hands that definitely aren’t trembling in his pockets. Mina looks up from her book. She’s concerned. 

So is he, if he’s honest. Or at least, he’s worried about how concerned he isn’t. 

She stands and moves towards him slowly, holding out her hands. “Of course. What’s wrong, Jon?” She asks softly. 

“I don’t know,” Jonathan says. “Mina, _I don’t know.”_

Mina runs her hand along his arm, and the steady weight grounds him. “It was that man, wasn’t it. Oh, Jon, he’s got you all tied up in knots, doesn’t he?” 

“Mina,” Jonathan says, managing to sound completely serious, “I think I might have a crush?” 

Mina, very considerately, doesn’t laugh. But her eyes twinkle and her lips curl just slightly in amusement. “Darling, you have a full-blown _obsession.”_

“Shut up,” groans Jonathan. His hands are steady. Mina can do that, somehow. 

“I never knew you liked older men,” his wife-in-name-only smiles. 

"But I don't know if he's safe, Mina," Jonathan admits. 

"If you like him, he's got to be," Mina says decisively. "God, Jon, next time you see the man, just ask him on a date. What's the worst that could happen?" 

He could drink me dry, Jonathan wants to say, but that would be a bit dramatic, given the situation. After all, Not-Dracula was just a man. 

_What's the worst that could happen?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mina’s family is hella religious & she married her best friend Jon so that they’d get off her back & she could go be gay in peace. Also, Dracula ate Agatha. Just to be clear. It's not like this is a plotty fic to begin with, I was just having fun, so like, coherency is overrated amirite


End file.
